


Cupid's Arrow

by agentcalliope, chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, CEO Fitz, Comedy, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, MCU cameos, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Reality TV, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Unreal AU, a lot of it, dating show, public disgrace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope, https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After jeopardizing the reputation of his company, billionaire engineer Leo Fitz knows he needs to redeem himself in the public’s eye. So, against his better judgment, Fitz accepts the offer to become this season’s suitor on the popular reality dating show Cupid’s Arrow. </p><p>Cupid’s Arrow promises Fitz that he’ll find true love, but Fitz is skeptical- and he’s certainly not looking for love.</p><p>(Neither is assistant producer Jemma Simmons.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupid's Arrow

  

*******

_The Rising Tide_ article hits the internet before noon, and by 1:00 pm, five partners are already reneging on their previous commitments. By 3:00 pm every single journalist, engineer, developer, potential investor and anyone from the general public with as much as a passing interest in new technologies has seen the video as well.

At 3:15, Fitz's mother calls, outraged and anxious.

By the time Fitz is called in an urgent meeting, Lance Hunter, his childhood best friend and troublemaker extraordinaire, has yet to emerge from his dazed slumber. Fitz won’t get the satisfaction of blaming him for causing yet _another_ inextricable mess.

One that Fitz has got to get himself out of.

*******

As far as emergency damage control meetings go, this one is fairly uneventful. There's no rising voices, no hair pulling and no frantic pacing. The evidence of his humiliation isn’t even playing on the holotable, which Fitz at first takes as a good sign.

But with the deafening silence that fills the room, he affirms that nothing about this meeting could be qualified as _good_.

Fitz is sitting in his chair at the end of the conference table, head in his hands while his vest and tie lie abandoned in a heap on the floor. The pounding headache pulsing at his temples isn't helping him to wrap his mind around the enormity of his blunder, but the poisoned daggers Donnie is silently staring into him from across the table certainly help make the point.

Phil Coulson, Fitz's PR Chief and unofficial advisor, is standing with his arms crossed and his most displeased face on. Of all the things Fitz has come to regret about the last 24 hours, disappointing Phil is fairly high on his list.

"I'll resign," Fitz says dispassionately, rubbing his palms over his burning eyelids. "I'll step down until things die down–"

"A resignation will only make things worse," Phil states in a tone that condones no such arguments. "It's not exactly a secret that you are the gray matter and creative force behind this company. Your departure would send our last investors running for the hills."

It doesn't take more than a pointed look from Phil to silence Donnie's snicker.

"But this is a dream came true for those who've had it out for the teen millionaire

CEO for the past decade. Every news outlet in the country is reaching out, hoping to get a pint of your blood. You need to redeem yourself in the public eye."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Fitz is still cradling his head, willing the sinking feeling he feels from his hangover and the problem to go away.

"I have an idea." Phil’s voice permeates Fitz’s jumbled thoughts and he lifts his head and gazes hopefully at the older man.

"Okay," Fitz says with a piteous nod.

"You're not gonna like it." Phil's matter of fact tone plainly conveys that Fitz isn't in any position to bargain.

"Okay." He has come to expect as much. There isn't one thing about this entire mess he's likely to enjoy.

Fitz has, as the insufferable cliché goes, devoted his life to D.W.A.R.F.S Inc from the day he founded the company when he was 16, puting in his every waking hours and sacrificing any hope for a private life in the process. It's his life's work and his legacy that are about to burst into flame thanks to his own bafflingly stupid drunken mistake. He would do anything- _anything_ to save his company.

*******

When Fitz said he’ll do anything for his company, he did not mean _this_.

He’s supposed to be listening to the producer of the show as he talks about the contract that lays before him. The half dozen underlings sitting around the table nod on like bobbleheads, but all Fitz can do is stare at the bolded name on top of the said packet.

_Cupid’s Arrow. What kind of a bloody name is that?_

He feels a nudge at his side and glances up, Phil’s forced smile and widened eyes silently communicating that Fitz better start listening. Fitz fixes his posture in his chair, looking around at the people agreeing with the producer’s every damn word and mostly manages to stifle a groan.

_Bunch of monkeys, that’s what they are._  

“Mr. Fitz? You have a question?”

He freezes for a moment. Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on him and he internally curses as the producer –what’s his name? Wart?– leans forward eagerly and clasps his hands on the paper.

If this wasn’t such a horrible day, Fitz might’ve let it slide. But even from across the table he can see the man’s eyes, and the clear look of disdain on his features. Fitz looks him right in the eye and feels a tug in the pit of his stomach.

_He probably thinks I’m a prat. Rich off of Daddy’s money. I’ll show him._

“Actually,” Fitz fidgets in his seat even though he never breaks eye contact, “It’s _Doctor_ Fitz.”

A sudden chuckle coming from the producer’s left side has him searching for the only person who seems to find his correction funny. The woman’s hazel eyes widen when she notices Ward's sudden straightening into a rigid posture.“Sorry," Fitz clears his throat, gesturing vaguely in Ward's direction," carry on."

Grant Ward knits his eyebrows at Fitz, leaning back in his chair as if trying to decipher Fitz’s response and after moments of tension filled silence a grin appears on his face that uneases Fitz right away.

“I got it.” Ward jumps from his chair excitedly. He draws his hand across the air, gazing into the distance as if he’s already seeing it plastered on a billboard.    

“Leo Fitz: Doctor of _Love_.”

Grant Ward is nodding and looking very pleased with himself as the board members applause and excitedly chatter with one another– except the brunette who tries to hide a grimace on her face, fiddling with her glasses and sending a piteous look at a very red-faced Fitz.  

Who is, by the way, wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

Being a pariah in his field must surely outweigh being dubbed _Doctor of Love_.

He casts a hopeful look at Phil, silently communicating his new conclusion– there’s _no_ way Phil will make him do this bloody show with a bloody name like this?

Phil leans over, whispering into Fitz’s ear and trying to suppress laughter that comes out anyway.

“Ready to sign, _Doctor Love?”_

When Fitz signs the contract –with his _actual_ name– and all eyes are on him as Grant Ward thumbs through the documents, smirking to himself.

Fitz can’t help but feel like he’s selling his soul to Satan.

Or that creepy sea-witch from the mermaid movie with the tentacles like an octopus.

Fitz decides he’s going to kill Hunter.

*******

The _Doctor of Love_ is looking decidedly green, Jemma notes to herself before giving a cursorily read to her annotations and pushing her laptop shut. She almost feels sorry for him –the poor guy obviously has _no idea_ of what he's getting himself into. On the other hand, he's an entitled one percenter with, if _The Rising Tide_ is to be believed, no sense of common decency whatsoever. Not to mention, a willing participant to a revolting television program that routinely degrades women for entertainment purposes. Although, come to think of it, he doesn't look _that_ willing.

It’s Jemma's third season on the show and the two previous male participants had a few things in common –they were cocky, thirsty for media attention and, to put it mildly, quite dim. Leo Fitz didn't look the part, but he was here, wasn't he?

"Jenna here will explain–"

"Jemma," she corrects, not for the first time. Ward gives her a crocodile smile and pauses before he turns back to talk to Leo.

“ _Jemma_ will explain how we run things and show you the set. I would do it myself,” Ward lies through his teeth and Jemma just barely stops herself from snorting, “but I have another important meeting to attend to. I look forward to your participation in our little show and if you would excuse me, I have to leave.” Ward shakes Leo’s hand and clasps him on the shoulder before walking out the door surrounds by assistants.

Before Jemma can speak to him, Leo scoffs and crosses his arms at the spot where Ward just exited. “‘I look forward to your participation’,” Leo mocks in an American accent, lowering his voice and exaggerating his words. “‘in our _little_ show’.” He huffs again. “What a pretentious jerk face.”

A ‘pretentious jerk face’ was an colorful, but quite accurate description of Ward, if she does think so herself. Shifting the strap of her bag more comfortably on her shoulder, Jemma grabs a couple of loose documents off the table and Leo seems to suddenly remember that she’s here, widening his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your boss.”  

“It’s alright,” Jemma shrugs, starting to walk out the door, gesturing for him to follow. “I’ve been here since the beginning of the show, and he _still_ can’t seem to remember my name.” His strides match hers as they move through the hallway, and she shoots him a smile, moving the papers aside to free her hand and reaches out to him. “Jemma Simmons, assistant producer.”

She doesn’t know why she’s bothering to introduce herself. He’s a suitor, and suitors never give a damn about assistant anything. Those blue eyes of his look sincere, though, and his remark about Grant Ward  have her hoping this one might be different.

Maybe.

Then Leo shyly grins, and he accepts her handshake with a firm grasp.

“Leopold Fitz, CEO.” He cringes, and chuckles slightly. “You already knew that, though.”

“Mmhm,” Jemma nonverbally agrees as they reach the elevator, pressing the ‘down’ button.

They stand there in silence waiting for the doors to open when he suddenly blurts out.

“Fitz.”

Jemma turns to face him, cocking her head to the side and raising her eyebrows in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I, uh, like to be called Fitz.” He scratches the back of his head, his cheeks beet red and eyes cast down. There’s a weird rhythm to her heart that she tells herself is the result of beginning-of-season nerves.

“Oh, okay then...” She begins, but doesn’t know how to finish until she remembers the new marketing campaign, and she can’t stop herself from breaking out into a smile

The elevator chimes open, and they step inside, Jemma fully aware of Le– _Fitz,_ glancing at her with puzzlement and his nose crinkled. She presses the button for the ground floor and then focuses on the doors ahead of her when she concludes.

“But I thought you prefered _‘Doctor of Love’?_ ”

He groans, nestling his head in his hands, but when she starts to laugh he starts to laugh too until they’re both in fits of laughter and Jemma tells herself that the swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach is from the elevator and nothing else.

***


End file.
